


Highway of Endless Dreams

by woollen_pharaohs



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, Ray is a ride or die kind of guy, Rehabilitation, they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 12:26:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13076850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woollen_pharaohs/pseuds/woollen_pharaohs
Summary: Nothing in his training could have prepared him for this.





	Highway of Endless Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> So I don’t even know if anyone ships these two? but I think they have good chemistry and I loved the weighted pause after Ray asked if Phil had a boyfriend. Anyway, hope you enjoy it :)

“Woah, woah, not so fast Phil,” Ray says, catching on to Phil’s arm.

Phil looks down at Ray’s hand on his elbow, the shame and humiliation of opening up at group still rolling off him in waves.

“Come on, you’re gonna help me pick out a gift for my kid.”

Phil stares at him and Ray moves his hand to clap Phil on the back, a small little push to get him moving.

All he wants to do is go home, kick his combat boots off, blast some 21st Century mind-numbing music and disassociate without the chemical assistance. He never thought he’d be the type to get addicted to anything, he wasn’t that type of guy. Not in the future, anyway. But, as he discovered, it didn’t matter if he believed he wasn’t an addict because the drugs had a way of wavering choice from the equation.

Nothing in his training could have prepared him for the shame, the humiliation, and the _relief_ that addict meetings provided him. If he hadn’t had Ray to encourage him to go along with him, Phil thinks he’d be far worse off. Besides, he supposes he owes Ray for getting him addicted to gambling in the first place.

They take the metro to the inner city and the noises don’t sound so hollow and other-worldly as they did a week ago. Instead, there are so many noises that sound abrasive. People talking at every volume imaginable, train wheels screeching over the tracks, footsteps running up and down stairs, the swish of clothes and the gust of the wind from the surface breathing into the hot belly of the metro.

He hangs close to Ray, hand wrapped tightly around the man’s bicep, worried that he’ll lose him in the crowd. People bustle passed them. Children nagging. Friends chattering mindlessly, their shopping bags knocking against Phil’s leg as they pass. Fingers wrap tighter. Chews his lip. The dark subway opens up to the bright of day. Eyes squinting. Other hand over his eyes. Hold on tight.

“Hey,” Ray’s soft, scratchy voice. “You okay?”

Phil nods. Chews his lip again. Rubber tires squelching over the damp asphalt. Heels clip-clopping on the sidewalk. The rustle of plastic bags. A warm hand over his clenched one. He looks at Ray. Sees concern and unlocks his hand from Ray’s bicep, motions to keep moving.

They steer out of the flow from the subway and join the stream of shoppers. Phil doesn’t cling onto Ray this time, but he’s no less distant, the backs of his fingers bumping against Ray’s knuckles every so often. He never felt safe before. His world was dying. In the 21st century, he doesn’t need to feel safe because he and the rest of the travellers are the ones who are meant to make the entire world a safer place. His whole life has been about putting others first, putting a vision of a healthy, populated future ahead of his own safety and interests and wants and needs.

The start of his journey hadn’t been easy. Drug addiction. Being accused of murdering his host’s best friend. Despair about what exactly they were doing or how they were helping when people were still dying. He had one thing easy and that was that his host had no close relationships with immediate family, or friends who hadn’t ODed. He took that as a blessing because he had always operated best alone.

Except when his preferred isolation fed his addiction and his lawyer just wouldn’t leave him alone. Kept finding him and asking him for more hints, more money, more sex. And he would give, and give, in exchange for drugs and love and because he wanted it. Because, paradoxically, being with Ray made him understand what it means to feel safe. What it must be like for all those people he saves every day, but better, because what goes over their heads is crystal clear for him. Poignant. Because Phil knows with sure fire certainty that Ray won’t give up on him.

He clears his throat. “How old is he? Your kid.”

“Uh, what year is it?” Ray asks. He lifts his hands to count on his fingers. “Yeah, he’s turning 19.”

Phil blows a raspberry. “Oh, I thought you were going to say he was a _kid_ , kid.”

Ray shrugs. “He is a kid, like you.”

“I’m no kid, I’m older than you.”

Ray stops him. Looks him in the eye. “You sure you’re clean? Thought it was the drugs that made you say that stuff.”

Phil finds Ray’s hands and holds them amongst the currents of people flowing around them. “I promise, I’m clean.”

Ray searches his face, then grins. “You? Older than me? You always make me laugh.”

 

-

 

Ray twists his head as far as he can and Phil meets him at the edge of his reach, ties their lips together, the taste of nicotine gum on his tongue. Phil moans when Ray grinds against him, his cock swollen inside Ray’s ass, his eyes rolling to the back of his head when he starts to buck. Stubble tickles his skin. Rough hands wind back to grip onto Phil’s hips, guides him deeper, encourages him to go harder.

Phil buries his face into the back of Ray’s neck, kisses him there, breathes heavy, then moves over Ray and pulls him up on all fours. A hand sliding down Ray’s spine shiny with the passionate consequence of their business and he runs his fingers around the shape of Ray’s hole around his cock. The puckering skin, red, wanting. Ray’s legs are trembling, his mouth running off swears, his fists coiling the blankets into whirlpools in a rocky sea.

He feels the swell in the wave rise, a stormy oscillation. He reaches around Ray’s hips and finds his weeping cock and pumps him while he fucks him until the wave comes crashing down on the shore. Ray’s legs give way shortly after, causing Phil’s shuddering cock to slide out and exposes his cock to the cool, crisp air of his studio. Orgasmic moans bouncing off brick walls and cement floors and licking down his ears sweeter than the cacophony of the whole wide world because it’s just him and Ray. Just two men, together, in each other’s arms.

Phil cleans them both. Sluggish. Then stumbles back to bed and snuggles against Ray, his head on his lap as the other man sits up against the brick wall. Breaths evening out. The aroma of sex intoxicating. Ray berates him for being young and he tells Ray his true age in response. He doesn’t mean to go against protocols. Of all the travellers in his group, he’s the most disciplined, the most trained, so it’s almost unbelievable that he let it slip.

Ray tucks sweat matted hair behind Phil’s ear and runs the rough pad of his thumb over the shape of Phil’s brow. “There’s something incredible about your mind, kiddo-”

“Phil,” he corrects, husky.

“You have a creative mind, baby,” Ray quips. “You have the time and money to do something with that brain of yours.”

“Do what?”

“I don’t know, anything you like.”

In this life, missions don’t encompass all the time in his life. He doesn’t have to go to a 9-5 job or pay rent. Ray’s right, he has the money and time to focus on himself. He can develop interests and hobbies and learn new skills in things that aren’t necessarily ‘useful’ but are fun, for the sake of it.

“What do you like to do for, you know, fun?” Ray asks him.

“I like doing this.” Phil sits up and kisses Ray. Sloppy, he’s worn out, but Ray likes it sloppy, loves Phil’s wet lips and pliant tongue and Phil loves the hot little huffs Ray makes whenever he kisses him.

Ray holds Phil’s forehead to his and smiles at him. “I like that too, but it’s not exactly a pastime.”

“Why can’t it be?”

Ray pauses. “I suppose it is then.”

Ray kisses him softer than Phil expects. It doesn’t matter that Ray thinks he’s bluffing. Ray sees something in Phil that was exploited in his past life. A potential in him to not just excel but to do good, to create, to innovate. And Phil knows that in this life – in the life where he gets to choose what he does and why and who he’s with, it’s all going to be infinitely better because he has Ray by his side. Supporting him and loving him, and he knows that one day he’ll be able to tell Ray everything. Maybe he’ll still laugh, but he’ll sincerely believe it. Phil’s sure of it.


End file.
